


From the Pictures that they Took

by inabodycastofglass



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Auguste Lives, Ballet AU, M/M, Reincarnation AU, Title form a Maria Mena song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-01-17 00:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12353601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabodycastofglass/pseuds/inabodycastofglass
Summary: Laurent had decided years ago (with the help of a few doctors and some meds) to ignore the images, the sounds, the smells of other lives, and focus on his dancing. He had no proof they were real, nothing aside from the wavering, nagging desire.





	1. Enter Damen, Stage Left

**Author's Note:**

> I'm switching back to my normal chapter style for this story, so they'll mostly be short, this will hopefully lead to more frequent updates.

Laurent had decided years ago (with the help of a few doctors and some meds) to ignore the images, the sounds, the smells of other lives, and focus on his dancing. He had no proof they were real, nothing aside from the wavering, nagging desire.

With enough silencing he even began to forget the fields, horses, and castles that were his everything, once.

Now this room, this barre and these mirrors were his world.

Laurent passed hours here, stretching, going over the basics, performing the same dance over and over as the music drowned out his thoughts.

He forced himself to spin faster, to push back the shadow, the one thing he could never manage to forget. He clenched his teeth as his calves burned.

When he came out in his attitude he was moving too fast, and stumbled, falling so a shock ran through him from where his knee hit the floor.

Gasping, he shuffled so he could check to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

Letting out a breath, he laid on his back, his heart racing. He was fine. Auguste would be upset when he saw the new bruise already forming on Laurent’s too fine skin, but there wouldn’t be any long term damage.

Had he taken his meds that morning? He couldn’t remember.

His legs shook as he stood, sweat dripping in his eyes. Slowly, with more care than was necessary, he changed and went to find his brother.

He was greeted by Auguste in his office with a hug. “How was practice?”

Laurent held up the sweaty part of his towel as an answer.

Auguste knit his brows. “You’re overworking yourself again.”

“It was my last chance for interrupted studio time before everyone gets here tonight.” With a sigh, Laurent fell into the chair across from Auguste’s desk.

“I expect you to see Paschal tonight before you go to bed.”

“I know, I know.” He picked up a stack of papers to look at before Auguste took them away. “Is there anyone I should know about?”

“One.” Auguste took his seat, turning to his computer. “Damen Vee. He’s an exchange student from Greece.”

Laurent leaned over the desk, trying to peek at the screen while Auguste turned it away from him. “I hope he’s good enough to keep up.”

“I haven’t seen him dance in person, but the video I received was extremely promising.”

“I should hope so if you’re admitting him directly into the masters class.”

Auguste looked at him over his glasses. “You stick. Go shower.”

WIth a huff, Laurent pushed himself up. “Fine, but there better be cupcakes at dinner.”

Auguste breathed out a laugh. “You’re lucky you have an inhuman metabolism.”

“I know.”

* * *

 

Laurent had managed to avoid the Academy’s opening ceremony since he’d first started attending four years ago. It wasn’t an easy feat, considering his brother had been promoted to headmaster two years ago, but that was what made it fun.

He’d used up all his hiding places inside the school, so this year's game involved moving around outside among the crowd of students, some of whom recognised him. None of whom spoke to him.

He veered casually to the right as everyone else began narrowing through the entrance doors.

A man like a wall ran into him, taking him by surprise (somehow), and knocking him over.

An arm probably the size of both of Laurent’s wrapped around his waist, catching him. “Sorry.” He helped Laurent stand. “I was looking up. You’d think I would know better by now.”

Laurent could tell by his accent that he was Damen. He turned to see confirmation in his olive skin and curly hair. “You look more like a sports star than a danseur.”

After his initial shock at Laurent’s bluntness, Damen smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Laurent hummed. “How do you make proper leaps with all that extra weight?”

“I have bigger men lift me.”

It was delivered so expertly that it took Laurent a moment to realise he was joking. “I see. Good luck finding men big enough here, unless you have them in your bag.”

Damen laughed. “I just need to leave them in water overnight. They’ll grow.”

Laurent gave him the smallest of smiles. “Well, I have things to do.”

He left Damen wondering why he wasn’t attending the ceremony to hide in a bush.

 


	2. Pas De Deux

When Damen walked into their class the next morning to see Laurent stretching, he grinned, making his way over. “Hello, again.”

Laurent didn’t look up. “Hello.”

“I didn’t catch your name yesterday.”

“I didn’t give it.” Laurent glanced up at Damen as he began his own stretches, feeling his cheeks immediately warm. “It’s Laurent.”

“Well, Laurent. I hope we get along well, and not just so classes aren’t awkward.”

Laurent only nodded, knowing it would be difficult to speak at that moment.

Madam Sabine came in right as the class was scheduled to start, closing the door. No late comers were permitted, no exceptions. Her eyes raked the class as they all clamoured to stand against the barre. Her eyes moved back to Damen, her lips thin. “You’re a big one, aren’t you.”

Laurent’s lips thinned with his suppressed smile.

“You will show me how well you dance.”

Siegfried’s solo from Swan Lake. It was their performance last year.

Madam Sabine turned on the music, and everyone watched him.

He didn’t know the dance well enough to do it perfectly, but he wasn’t expected to. It was his talent and skill he needed to prove; how precise his movements and how seamless his transitions.

Madam Sabine cut the music off mid leap, but Damen managed to perform a near perfect follow through anyway.

“Now you will perform the pas de deux with Odette. Laurent.”

He stepped forward and into position.

“You know the role of the white swan?”

“I should hope so. I performed it last year.”

Damen had no time to process that, the music cutting off the end of Laurent’s words.

The dance was slow and intimate. Laurent’s eyes fluttered shut, his body tensing where Damen’s hands touched. They were larger on Laurent’s body than he was used to. Only thanks to years of single-minded perfectionism was he able to keep his movements exact.

The sudden silence when Madam Sabine cut the music was jarring. Laurent gained a sudden appreciation for Damen’s skill when he steadied Laurent before he could sprawl forward in a reflection of the day before.

Madam Sabine looked annoyed. Laurent could feel Damen’s panic in the sop where his hand pressed against Laurent’s back.

Her hips were a thin line as she looked Damen up and down. Finally, turning away, she snapped, “adequate.”

There was a spattering of polite clapping as the two of them moved to the barre.

Damen leant forward so his breath brushed Laurent’s ear. “Does that mean I’m not being kicked out?”

Laurent glanced back at him. “As long as you don’t piss her off, you’re fine.” he turned his attention forward, nearly missing Damen’s smile, and began going through the basics with the rest of the class.

As everyone shuffled from the locker rooms in twos and threes for lunch, t-shirts or sweaters tossed hurriedly over their practice clothes and slippers traded for sandals or tennis shoes, Damen hung back to walk with Laurent.

“So you know how to dance the ballerina’s role?”

Laurent stared up at him, daring him to make whatever joke he was going to.

“Honest question.”

Laurent . He waited for Damen to fall into step beside him as he made his way down the corridor. “As a young teenager I didn’t have the strength to lift a girl above my head, so, as a precaution, I expanded my area of expertise.”

Damen held the door to the main building open for him. “Can you dance en point?”

“Yes.”

Damen whistled appreciatively, making Laurent flush.

Once they sat down with their food - Damen apparently deciding that they were friends now since he passed several people who greeted him by name - Damen put his chin on his in his hand, leaning over the table toward Laurent. “What sort of dietary restrictions do you have?”

“Excuse me?”

Damen repeated the question, giving no further explanation.

“Why do you want to know?”

The way he smiled and looked up like this was some funny joke they shared seemed familiar to Laurent. It reminded him of grassy, flower covered hills. “I’d like to take you out, but I figured I should have an idea of where to go before I ask.”

His answer threw Laurent off. He didn’t have any real expectations for Damen’s intents, but he had clearly be not expecting this. “I- What?”

“You’re cute when you blush.”

That comment did not help him to not blush. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I’m a vegetarian.”

“So the Rozell Cafe, Saturday night after class?”

Laurent resisted the urge to fidget under Damen’s gaze. It wasn’t uncomfortable or intense, persey. But it was… honest. He swallowed. “Okay.”

“Great.” Damen put his hand down, brushing Laurent’s fingers. Laurent waited a moment too long to move his hand for it to be casual.

It was later that night when Laurent realised that Damen shouldn’t have known any restaurants around the academy, let alone one vegetarian friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two dances in this chapter are:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U7HJpzHOFlY  
> and  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25-5ksjxGg4


	3. Chapter 3

Laurent flung the doors of Auguste’s office open that evening and marched in. “I’ve made a mistake.”

Auguste stood up, watching Laurent pace. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Laurent spread his hands in the air dramatically and threw himself on the chair in front of his brother's desk. “Damen asked me on a date.”

It only took Auguste a moment to realise this wasn’t a real emergency. “Do you want me to talk to him? Get him to leave you alone?”

Laurent turned sideways in the chair, arching backward over the arm. “I told him yes.”

Auguste slowly sat back down. “Oh. So, you like him?”

“I don’t even know him, Auguste.”

“Yes, but you agreed to go on a date with him, so you must like him at least a little.”

Laurent pressed his palms into his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve never liked anyone before. How do I know?”

Auguste moved around his desk to pat Laurent’s head. “I wish I could answer that for you, but you probably already know about the cliches.”

“Butterflies, shortness of breath, trouble concentrating.” Laurent counted them on his fingers. “Dry mouth, difficulty speaking, racing thoughts, arousal.”

Auguste laughed, making Laurent roll his eyes.

“But I get most of those talking to any stranger. How am I supposed to know if this is different?”

“I think it’s just something you have to figure out through trial and error.”

Laurent made a face. “What good is having a slut for an older brother if you can’t help me with this dating thing?”

Auguste covered his heart, gasping. “You’re so mean.”

“Seriously, Auguste. Help me. I’ve never been on a date before, I don’t know what to do.”

Auguste pushed Laurent’s legs off the chair arm, sitting on it. “Okay. What exactly are you in need of?”

Laurent took a deep breath through his nose, curling up sideways on the chair, holding his knees to his chest. “I need to know what to wear, how to act, what to say, and general encouragement.”

Auguste smiled at him in a silent laugh. “We’ll focus on what to wear later. For now, just try being yourself.”

Laurent scowled at him.

“He already likes you, doesn’t he?”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“Then let him know you.” Auguste brushed Laurent’s hair from his eyes. “Show him exactly why he should like you.”

Laurent chewed his bottom lip. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused.

“Hey.” Auguste pinched his nose. “You have a lot to offer. You just have to be willing to show it.”

Laurent scoffed. “I know that.”

Auguste “mhm”ed. “So prove it.”

Laurent knew that Auguste was baiting him. He’d been doing this ever since Laurent was a child. He was doing it because it worked.

“You’re usually more protective than this. Don’t you want to know more about him before I commit to some sort of long term relationship?”

Auguste grinned broadly at him, and Laurent blushed at how just being in the presence of Auguste could loosen his tongue.

“I’m sure I’ll get to know him before that happens. For now I know the most important thing.” Auguste put his hand on Laurent’s head. “I know he has excellent taste.”

Laurent pulled his shirt up to hide inside it. Stupid Auguste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to let you all know that I'm having a difficult relationship with fanfiction right now, so, while I don't intend to drop this story currently, that may be a thing that happens in the future.  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

Auguste spent half of Friday night helping Laurent pick out an outfit for his first date.

Laurent’s first date. He was almost twenty-two and had never been on a date, or done anything romantic. He’d never kissed, or even held hands with someone he liked. His chest felt cold when he thought about telling Damen this. Would it scare him off? Would he want to be with someone with more experience?

Auguste pried Laurent’s hands from his wardrobe door. “Everything’ll be fine. It’s just dinner.”

Laurent didn’t admit to these thoughts, like so many others. He nodded.

“You should get to sleep.”

* * *

 

As Laurent brushed his teeth the next morning, he caught sight of someone in the mirror.

He spun around, his heart pounding. “Auguste?”

There was no answer. His ears rang.

Laurent spit and tossed his toothbrush haphazardly on the counter. Slowly he left the bathroom, walking down the hall as lightly as he could. “Auguste?”

He let his palm slide over the railing, focusing half his attention on it to keep himself grounded. Had he been imagining the face? But it had been so clear.

Standing on the last step, Laurent looked around. Should he check the whole house? He had to go to class soon.

A knock at the door made him jump. He stared at it, his heart pounding, fingers tingling. He walked slowly toward it, listening for footsteps inside.

When he opened the door, his vision exploded in red and gold, before it cleared and he saw Damen.

Laurent’s mind focused entirely on the flash of colour, and he just stared up at Damen.

“I thought I could walk you to class.”

His mind sorted out the figure of a man in a red cape. Then there was jewlery - gold.

“I…” Laurent blinked. “I’m not ready.”

The image seemed to settle, and his brain couldn’t remember the blur it was a moment ago, just that it had been.

“I can wait.”

Two images stood in front of Laurent; the reality, Damen in normal clothes, crisp and clear; and the faceless man that was already going fuzzy, like a memory.

He stood aside and let Damen in. “Give me five minutes.”

Laurent was already questioning if he’d really seen anything, even as he was almost sure he had. The confliction thoughts bothered him. Either he’d seen it or he hadn’t. But it was both.

Maybe he’d had a stroke.

Laurent finished getting ready and met Damen downstairs.

He smiled at Laurent, making it harder to return to reality as his stomach exploded in butterflies. “Ready?”

Laurent adjusted his bag on his shoulder, conscious of the nice outfit he had inside for their date. “Yes. Lead the way.”

Damen held out his arm for Laurent to take.

Laurent raised a brow at him, but Damen only waited, and Laurent cupped his upper arm, his face turning red at how solid it was.

With a stalled thought, he pulled out his phone and shot Auguste a text as Damen led him to campus.

_ Be careful when you come home. There might be a murderer inside the house. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any comments or questions they want a response to, you can message me on my tumblr at leighonardo [subject to change]. I feel weird responding to comments on here for bizarre me reasons, but I'm always willing to respond there.


	5. Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how wonky this chapter is. I've never written a typical date, nor been on a typical date, so it was just not happening.

Laurent was glad Auguste had talked him out of the suit (even if he had been laughing while he did) when he saw Damen in a nice T-shirt and jeans. It was less effort than Laurent would usually allow for a randezvous, but he felt a strong pull forward.

Their walk was quiet. Damen seemed comfortable in the silence, but Laurent was growing more anxious, which only made it harder to speak.

It was easy for Laurent to be quiet most of the time; around Auguste, in a group, when he was trying to make someone else uncomfortable. But now he was coming to realise how much he relied on others to carry their relationships.

Laurent only noticed they were at their destination when Damen opened the door for him. He walked through before remembering his manors. “Thank you.”

Damen smiled at him, and he looked away.

They ordered their food and drinks and found a place in the back to sit. It gave an impression of solitude, even as life bustled around them.

Was that better or worse?

After a few moments, Laurent realised that Damen was waiting for him to speak first. His mouth felt dry.

“Do you always invite people out just to stare at them?”

“Only sometimes.” Damen smiled at him, making Laurent blush.

“That’s creepy.”

Damen laughed. “I guess so, yeah.” He leant toward Laurent, his chin on his hand. “All right, then. Tell me about yourself.”

Laurent folded his hands on his lap. “What would you like to know?”

Damen tapped his chin, obviously pretending to think. “Why ballet?”

“Going for the deep questions, I see.” He thanked the barista for his drink and took a sip. “It’s in my family. My mother was a world class diva, my grandmother met my grandfather during a production of La Bayadére in Russia, back for generations.”

Damen nodded, thinking. “Do you enjoy it?”

Laurent laughed. He waved off Damen’s question. “You sounded like my brother. We had this conversation years ago.” He spun his cup around with a finger. “Yes, I enjoy dancing. And you?”

“Do I enjoy dancing?”

“Yes. You don’t look like a danseur. More like a weight lifter or a bear.”

“I can’t really say other than I felt a pull toward it. I started to help with sports as a child, and I just liked it more.”

“That simple?”

“Is that bad?”

“No.” Laurent took another sip of his café au lait, the caffiene already making his head buzz. “It’s refreshing. Dance is very competitive. Everyone wants to be the best.”

“I suppose I’m lucky that I’m a good competitor. I’ve always thrived in those situations.”

Laurent could see that, but he didn’t say so.”

The air between them was calm as they talked, the topics turning meaningless, learning nothings about each other. Pets, school, friends. For two hours they laughed at each others stories like they were old friends.

When Laurent saw his house, he realised Damen had walked him home. He’d been so caught up in their conversation, he hadn’t paid attention to their surroundings.

He chewed his lip. “I was wondering earlier. How do you know where I live?”

Damen flushed. “Well, your the headmasters brother.”

Laurent raised a brow, staring at him as they walked through the fence.

“I- I asked one of the women in our class for your address.”

Both of Laurent’s eyebrows went up. “You stalked me?”

“No! It’s nothing as creepy as that. I just realised after you were gone that I forgot to ask your number.”

“And you couldn’t have waited until today?”

“No. Well, yes.” He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I was trying to be romantic. I’m sorry.”

Laurent bit his cheek to stop from laughing. It wasn’t as creepy as Laurent was making him feel. His address was public knowledge since Auguste had an open door policy for his students. Damen probably didn’t need to ask more than one person.

But Laurent couldn’t help but humble him a little.

He realised that he must like Damen to not be creeped out by this.

Taking deep breaths, Laurent opened the door. “Well, goodnight stalker.” He smiled at Damen’s groan and closed the door.

Auguste leant back in his chair so he could grin at Laurent though his office doorway. “How’d it go?”

Laurent flipped him off and ran up the stairs, away from his laughing.


	6. Dreams

Laurent pushed on the wound in the man’s stomach with both hands. “Look at me. Don’t close your eyes, keep them on me.” He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to keep his wits about him. He needed to be calm. But as the man’s eyes fluttered shut, his heart pounded so hard it pushed him forward. “Help… Someone help!” He looked around, but there was no one. “Please, someone! He’s dying!”

He continued to scream until his throat was raw, and the man’s eyes had glassed over.

“No no no no no.” Laurent lifted the man’s head, cradling it in his lap. “Please, no.” Curling over him, Laurent began to rock. “Come back.” His voice broke, and he took a shaking breath. “Come back to me.”

When his begging yielded no results, his breath became ragged, and a scream ripped out from the core of his chest. He leant back, crying to the sky, to the gods.

As Laurent leant over the man to kiss his brow, someone grabbed his arms, shaking him.

“Laurent, wake up!”

He thrashed, fighting against the intruder who was just too late to help.

“Laurent, stop, you’re dreaming.”

As his arms were pinned to his sides, he recognised Auguste, but he still fought, his breathing ragged, covered in sweat.

When he did finally still, he tried to tell Auguste to let him go, but his voice broke before he could utter a sound, and he began to cry.

Auguste hugged him tight, and Laurent could feel him shaking. Or was it Laurent?

His tears and breath were sharp, and he couldn’t move at first to hold Auguste back.

His shaking turned slowly to shivers as he felt like he’d been dipped in ice.

“You’re okay.” Auguste’s voice was a small comfort. “You’re awake now. Everything’s okay. You’re safe. We all are.”

Laurent clung to him, his tears stopping. “It was a new one. I’ve never had this one before.” His breath was hoarse. How long had he been screaming?

“It’s okay. It’s just a dream. It’s not real.”

Laurent didn’t state the obvious; that it felt real, that it still did.

He could feel the man’s head on his lap, and the sticky half dried blood on his hands.


	7. Uninvited guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing my best to research life in France, but the most I can find is how to act as tourists, so please correct anything I get wrong.
> 
> It should not be harder to find information about present cultures than ancient ones. Just saying.

Laurent didn’t attend classes the next day. It was Auguste’s decision. He didn’t want Laurent to hurt himself with his nerves so on edge.

Laurent mostly tried to read. He started five different books, finding it impossible to focus. So he put some music on, pushed the furniture in the living room against the walls, and danced on his own. Something different than he usually did. Lyrical.

His school didn’t offer classes, but he’d seen enough videos to get a good idea.

Someone knocked on the door, and, unused to dancing in bare feet, Laurent slipped and fell into the coffee table beside him.

Huffing, he turned off the music and stalked to the door. “Auguste’s not here.”

He jumped when he saw Damen with a stuffed bear holding a heart.

“That’s okay.” Damen held the bear out to him. “You weren’t in class. I thought you could use a get better gift.”

Laurent slowly took it. “That’s… Thank you. And the term is ‘get well gift’.”

“I’ll write that down.”

They stood there for a moment where Damen seemed far less awkward than Laurent felt.

Laurent cleared his throat. “Would you like to come in?”

“Is it safe?”

“I’m not contagious.”

“Then I would love to.” Damen followed Laurent inside, looking around. “Were you dancing?”

“I was.” Laurent set the bear down on a table, and sat on the couch. He pulled at his shorts, which were far shorter than he considered appropriate for company.

Damen leant against the doorframe. “I’m sorry to have interrupted.”

“Don’t. I was mostly bored. Sit.” Laurent went to the kitchen to start some tea. He took the time to gather himself. He’d been aware that Greece had very lax social customs compared to France, but it was still difficult to get used to.

When he finally brought the tea out, Damen seemed relieved to no longer be alone.

“I didn’t realise serving tea to guests was a French custom.”

“It’s a habit I picked up when studying abroad in England.”

“Oh?” Damen watched him over a cup that looked like a doll toy in his hand. “For school, or dance?”

“Both.” Laurent sat, crossing his legs, which he noticed Damen take a subtle peak at. He was glad the look lingered until he could get his blush under control. “I was in elementary school, before my father passed. Don’t look at me like that, it was years ago, and we weren’t close.”

Damen sat up straight, clearing his throat. “Did you stay in a dorm?”

“With my brother, who was there for university. A business major, to qualify him to run the academy.” He took a sip of his tea. “It’s been in my family for over one-hundred years.”

“That’s amazing.”

Laurent nodded, swallowing air loudly. “You should be going. Madam Sabine’s class starts in a half hour.” He stood and made his way to the door brusquely.

Damen’s surprised expression followed Laurent before his body caught up and he did the same.

It didn’t deter him for long, as he stood at the door, facing Laurent, leaning back slightly so didn’t feel like he towered over Laurent. Still, he stood close enough that Laurent could feel his warmth. “It was nice seeing you.”

Laurent looked away. “It’s been less than a day.”

“It would be nice seeing you after only a few minutes.”

The heat suddenly became too much, and Laurent stepped back. “Well, I should really be resting. I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

Damen leant down and kissed his cheek, Laurent kissing back automatically. When he pulled away, it left Laurent feeling unbalanced. “Goodbye, Laurent.”

It was after Damen was gone that Laurent realised his presence had pushed the dread and loss from Laurent’s chest.


	8. Tired

Laurent had the same dream every night for nearly a week. Every night the man would die in his arms, the image clearing a little more every time until Laurent could see the gold flecks in his eyes, the sweat running down his neck, the small bird tattoo on his clavicle.

He knew things about the man. He knew his family, his profession before the war, the inside of his room.

And every night Laurent woke unable to breathe, covered his sweat, his heart racing. The only good part was that he was quiet. If he’d continued to wake Auguste, he’d have to go back to therapy, and the doctors would know his meds weren’t working.

This was how it always went. The same new dream recurring until it was a solid memory. Then it would quiet down, returning only occasionally.

So long as he didn’t try to suppress it.

It did make Laurent increasingly exhausted, which he could only hid for so long.

After a class where he stumbled during his grand adage in an original choreography to “A Million Kisses to my Skin”, a quick, passionate dance that took great concentration, Damen brushed his hair from his face, looking him in the eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I make one mistake and you look at me like I’m dying.”

Damen raised his brows. Laurent wonder if he couldn’t move them separately. “Even hiding in the bushes you look impeccable, and now you have bags under your eyes.” His thumb brushed Laurent’s cheek.

Laurent sighted, leaning back, and crossing his arms. “I’m just tired. It happens. I’ll be fine.”

Damen looked unsure, but he nodded and walked Laurent home.

But Laurent wasn’t okay. That Thursday he was practicing alone. Over and over he practiced, for three hours, until after nine. Auguste would come looking for him soon, and he wanted to get that stupid adage right before then.

As he landed from a grand jete, his ankle twitched, and he collapsed.

Pain shot out from his ankle, through his toes and up into his hips. He cried out, clutching at his foot, unable to touch the source of his pain.

A young boy, a first year, threw the door open, music loud from the next practice room. He saw Laurent on the floor, and ran out.

Just as Laurent began to think he’d been left to fend for himself, Auguste ran in. “Laurent, what happened?”

Laurent grit his teeth. “I landed wrong.”

Laurent could see in his eyes that Auguste didn’t believe him, but he didn’t argue. “Nicaise, call fifteen.”

The boy walked away.

Auguste helped Laurent to sit against a wall. “Is this one of those old injuries?”

Laurent looked away.

Auguste sighed. “You can’t work yourself like this anymore. No.” He held up his hand. “I’m putting my foot down. Your health comes first, over everything. If you don’t listen, I’ll suspend you.”

Laurent gaped at him, his ear ringing. “You can’t.”

“I can. It’s in the school guidelines. A students health comes first. Don’t test me.”

Laurent couldn’t look at Auguste. His stomach twisted, hurting almost as much as much as his ankle. Auguste had never even once threatened him before.

They didn’t speak until the ambulance arrived.


	9. Hospital Visit

Laurent had to wear a boot for the next two weeks. After three days of rest, he was allowed light physical activity. The doctor had warned him, quite sternly, that if he didn’t take care of himself, his injury would get worse until he couldn’t do more than lightly run. Something about the cartilage. Laurent couldn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears.

Thankfully Auguste was able to finish dealing with the doctor and the paperwork. Laurent was in a daze, the world moving a little too slow, which might have been the pain meds.

As they made their way to the car, Auguste’s arm wrapped around Laurent for support, there were two boys playing in the grass nearby. Something in the way one of them laughed drew Laurent’s attention. He stopped to watch them, wondering what they were doing out so close to morning. Where were their parents?

He watched them wrestle and play, energetic in the way only children in their single digits could be, a little too rough. His chest squeezed. Auguste had been almost a teenager when he was born, but when they played together Auguste did his best to mimic that energy.

“Laurent.” Auguste’s voice was gentle and patient, so different  from how it was before that it made Laurent’s throat tight. “We have to go. You need to sleep.”

Laurent nodded. He watched the boys as Auguste helped him into the car, until they turned the corner.

He sighed silently. “I think I’d like children some day.”

Auguste smiled at the road. “What brings on this revelation?”

Laurent furrowed his brows. “Those children. I thought it might be nice to have my own.”

Auguste was silent, and Laurent lifted his head with difficulty to watch him. It felt so heavy. “Laurent…” He reached out and felt Laurent’s forehead, then his cheek. “I think the pain meds are causing you to hallucinate. Or maybe you’re already dreaming. There were no children.”

Laurent stared at Auguste, his mouth open. He was sure there were children, as sure as Auguste was right next to him.

But he said nothing. He would figure this out, without those doctors that looked at him with sympathetic, judgmental eyes and papers full of medical jargon he had to research on his own to fill the gaps in their explanations. They pushed meds that just hazed him, upping the doses when they didn’t work. He wouldn’t go back to an existence where he had no control over his own life or mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a post about why I'm contemplating shutting down my account on my tumblr, Leighonardo, in the "#my writing" tag. I won't be answering questions about it on here.


	10. Chapter 10

Laurent sat at the library table with his chin in his hand, his mind elsewhere. It was boring having an injury. He had to miss all his dance classes, and he didn’t have enough academic classes to fill the extra time.

The only good that came from the long periods of time that previously belonged to his classes was that he was alone. No Auguste or Damen helicoptering him. No offers of drink or food, no helping him stand or walk or carry his things. No “just checking in” Just Laurent and his thoughts.

Today he was running through a daydream he’d been having since he was six, of a battle between two sides of the same kingdom for the honour of marrying the most beautiful woman in the world.

Laurent played the role of general leading one side of the battle.

When he was younger, that’s all it was. But as he grew older, other details were carved into the pages. There was more blood, less glory, until there was none at all; and a forbidden romance with the enemy leader’s brother. It was the first time he’d ever thought about being kissed.

“Laurent?” Damen put a hand on his shoulder and sat across from him. “Are you ready to go?”

Laurent’s eyes adjusted, and there was a shift in his perception.

Damen, in chains, lunged at him, choking himself. He was frantic, red faced, the skin of his wrists torn from rubbing the metal until they bled. He tried over and over to break free.

Laurent glanced up and saw an ax swinging down.

He heard Damen scream in his head.

A putrid sound of tearing skin and bone, then blackness.

Laurent couldn’t get air to scream. He stumbled back, his ankle twisting and sending a shock through his hip. He fell, knocking one chair aside and pulling another with him.

The fall didn’t hurt, but he panicked and tried to scramble to his feet again, pulling down another chair, this one covered in books.

“Laurent!” Damen was at his side, his hand on Laurent’s face, the other at his back.

Laurent fought him for a moment before grasping Damen’s hand and the front of his shirt with shaking, desperate, white knuckles fists.

Slowly his mind came back to the present- to reality. His breathing slowed. He felt dizzy.

That part was new.


End file.
